Influenza
by Scarlet Secret
Summary: But in 1919 when half the world is devastated and the other half is dying, he returns to Downton Abbey because he heard through the grapevine that the beautiful and gracious Cora, Countess of Grantham has contracted the influenza.


A/N: I own nothing. I had the flu once, but it wasn't Spanish so not too bad.

He does eventually come back to Downton

It's not immediately after the war (_somehow he survives it and while most thought him lucky, the staff expressed no surprise; somehow he always seemed like the sort that would survive_) because goodness knows he has no intention of re-entering service and if that meant he had to work very hour god sent in a pub then that was fine. At least he could answer back.

But in 1919 when half the world is devastated and the other half is dying, he returns to Downton Abbey because he heard through the grapevine that the beautiful and gracious Cora, Countess of Grantham has contracted the influenza _(it's more than sewing on buttons) _and he can guess the consequence of that.

Carson is visibly displeased to see him at the front door and for a moment he thinks the old butler (_older than ever_) is about to grudgingly offer him his job back if only he'll come down to the staff entrance (_at least no housemaids will have to wait on an Earl_) but instead Carson brings him through to his lordship.

Thomas doesn't know what to expect. He thought that the signs of wear would have begun to show in Lord Grantham however the man looks exactly as he ever did (_perhaps a little more lonely) _and greets Thomas with more courtesy than he perhaps deserves.

It almost makes him laugh that neither the butler, nor his master, can begin to fathom what he might be doing there. He expresses his sympathies to his lordship (_the cures seem to be working and her ladyship always was rather more robust than one might expect – the Doctors are hopeful_) but still the penny doesn't drop with the aristocrat. Carson starts to look a little less perplexed.

Thomas grows annoyed at his ignorance. Given half the chance he'd be rude but he still wants something after all. He redirects his attention to Carson.

"Where is she?"

"If you mean-"

"You know who I mean Mr Carson."

"She's with her ladyship."

The Earl furrows his brow and Thomas (_as far as the older man's concerned no one of importance if with his wife_) sneers.

"Doin' the daft thing then?"

"I think you'll find it's the noble thing."

"Yeah, that's what they told all them young men an'all."

"Thomas-"

"I expect Mrs Hughes locked the door after 'er."

"It's what she wanted Thomas. It was her choice."

Lord Grantham finally cut across his loyal butler and insolent ex-footman.

"Are we discussing O'Brien?"

Thomas stares at him for a while, assessing whether his lordship has shown the required amount of respect in his pronunciation of the name.

"Is she upstairs?"

He nods.

"She's attending to my wife."

"Right then."

Thomas nods politely towards his old employer and immediately leaves the room, heading up the stairs before Carson can catch him.

"Thomas! Come back here immediately!"

"I won't be long, Mr Carson, perhaps you can try to explain it to his lordship."

Thomas is gone from his sight and Carson sighs.

(_"I'm not too sure I understand it lad."_)

He knocks on the door, rather louder than he should have done (_he forgets that showing courtesy to an invalid doesn't mean he's a servant again_) and there is an audible gasp behind the door. He knows it's the American woman. She always was prone to dramatics.

O'Brien opens the door (_god forbid Lady C should lift a finger_) and her tired eyes become wider than he remembers them. The rest of her is nearly the same though. Same clothes (_hanging slightly looser_), same hair (_slightly more grey_), same face (_thinner)_ containing the same mouth (_whiter_) that cursed everyone else but would sometimes smile for him.

It only takes a second but he knows.

She tries to shut the door but he slips a foot inside. She still pushes it hard.

"Ow. Flaming hell woman, let me in."

(_In the background he can hear the Countess soft tones – "Who is it O'Brien?")_

He pushes back against the door and because, even on her better days, he's stronger (_as they found out when they tore apart one of her ladyships old petticoats and he took everything but a sleeve_) he gains entrance to the room.

Cora is propped up in bed, surrounded by flowers and piled high with linen. Her cheeks are flushed and her pupils dilated (_there's a comment not suited for her ladyship's ears on the tip of his tongue_) and she looks thoroughly confused that a footman she hasn't set eyes on for five years has shoved into her room, but otherwise he thinks that between the two women it's clear which one of them should be in a bed being tended to.

"Thomas?"

He recovers himself. Five years away or not, he spent the better part of fifteen years being a servant and the instinct is ingrained on him. Especially for the ladies, (_he catches sight on Lady Rosamond Painswick in London once and finds it absurd that he once sat by O'Brien as she stitched up a tear in this woman's underwear but she still wouldn't know him from Adam if he spoke to her_) who he always found appreciated his sly smiles more.

He stands to attention.

"Yes m'lady. I'm sorry to intrude on your convalescence."

Politeness takes over.

"It's alright Thomas. What on earth are you doing here? The last we heard you were saving lives on the front line and being quite the hero."

She's pleasant. But then she always was, her ladyship.

"I've been back six months or so m'lady. Been working in a pub down in London."

She looks politely interested but he knows she doesn't care a fig for what he's doing really.

"And you've come for a visit?"

"Sort of m'lady. I heard you were ill and I wanted to pay my respects."

Slightly to his left he hears a quiet snort of disbelief but he doesn't look round. Her ladyship is either too tired to notice, or too used to slight signs of disobedience from her ladies maid and she too ignores the noise.

"That's very kind of you Thomas. But I would have thought," _(her voice has gone sly now and he wonders why he never liked her more)_ "that you were here to visit O'Brien."

She's right of course _(and she bloody knows she is, he thinks) _but not for the right reasons.

Without further ado he turns to the woman next to him and doesn't pause for pleasantries.

"You've got it haven't you?"

"Will you get out of this room?"

There's less aggression than there used to be, but still plenty of anger. _(Not enough for what they've done to her.)_

"Is it that you don't want to see me or you don't want me to catch it too?"

She doesn't need to answer. She turns back to her ladyship.

"I'm very sorry about the intrusion m'lady, I had no idea that Thomas was going to come," (_she glances up at him in that way that always told him he was in trouble_) "barging in."

Rather than being offended, the Countess looks rather bemused at witnessing their argument. He wants to tell her she should have eavesdropped on the kitchen eight years ago, she'd have heard some beauties.

"Not at all O'Brien. Have you two being corresponding through the war?"

She's sly again and suddenly he feels the same rage towards her as he did towards her husband. Even she can't see it. The Countess is staring right at her pale and feverish maid and still can't see! _(In the darkened room he has to stand right next to her to see the beads of sweat on her forehead. He knows she's keeping it dark on purpose.)_

"No, m'lady. I would have told you."

Cora smiles slightly at this and he can imagine with all the men gone what the war must have done for the women of Downton. Even his Lordship was in London for months on end.

O'Brien's more defensive than ever. She leaves his side (_how horribly romantic that sounds_) and stands next to Cora's bed, ostensibly so she can pour a glass of water for her mistress. He knows there's something symbolic in her position but he doesn't think about it.

"I sent you a few letters in the first year."

"I know you did. And they were mostly censored; I dread to think what you'd written."

His smirk falls. She never knew what he said to her. He watches her hold Cora upright and helps her to drink the water, before fluffing her pillow and gently (_gentler than he's ever seen anyone do anything and certainly gentler than he thought Sarah O'Brien capable of_) laying her back down. He boggles at her actions. True he had never seen O'Brien interacting with her ladyship behind closed doors before but the intimacy and was something he had never imagined.

Cora smiles at him, completely oblivious to his thoughts.

"Too many gory details I expect."

"Too much coarse language more like."

Cora laughs lightly and reaches for her servant's hand, squeezing it fondly.

"Oh, O'Brien."

Thomas becomes uncomfortable. He tells himself that it's due to witnesses intimacies between women – something none of the male staff were ever privy too – but he knows it's more. In all their years of working together he had never seen O'Brien allow herself to be touched like that; even he had had waited for her to reach out to him, not wanting to give her the wrong impression.

He acts quickly, walking round the side of the bed and grabbing her other hand (_how can her ladyship not have noticed how cold and clammy she was?_)

"Can I have a quick word? I swear I'll go afterwards."

She looks unsure. Christ, he thinks, she looks so ill. She doesn't drop his hand but neither does she let go of her ladyship's.

"Please."

There he's said it. He sees the corner of her lips twitch ever so slightly and knows she's remembering the same thing. (_"Never need anything from somebody so desperately that you'll beg, lad._)

"Alright, quickly though, I'll have to get back to her ladyship."

She glances round. Cora's looking sly again and pats O'Brien's hand with a condescension that makes Thomas' blood boil. Sarah doesn't seem to mind.

"I think I can manage to survive on my own for a few moments. Take your time."

Thomas pulls at her hand, leading her away, somewhat reluctantly, from Cora. At the last minute the Countess calls out hoarsely.

"Come straight back O'Brien."

Sarah nods and gives her a small, but reassuring smile.

Suddenly they're in the hallway and in clearer light she looks worse. Her eyes are sunken in and she looks like she hasn't slept for a week. Or eaten for that matter.

"Blimey…look at the state of you."

"Thank you very much, I'm sure. Was that all?"

He squeezes her hand.

"You can't stop 'ere."

She pulls her hand free.

"Come back with me, I'll get you a Doctor and look after ya and-"

"And what?" She sighed heavily and managed a small smile for his concern. "I recon I'm too far gone for any Doctor to 'elp matters."

He furrows up his face in confusion (_and not a small amount of anger_).

"You're gonna let yourself die for 'er? Why?"

"I owe it to 'er."

"Well that makes no bloody sense. You don't owe 'er a bleeding thing."

"You've had me reason now go."

"I ain't gonna leave you to work yerself to death for them!"

Her eyes are red-rimmed when she looks at him and her lips crack slightly as she tries to smile at him again. O'Brien raises a hand to his cheek and runs a thumb across his cheek briefly, but affectionately.

"Go back to your pub lad, forget about me."

She squeezes his hand once more and turns back to her ladyship's door, slipping inside before he can object. Inside he can hear the American woman mumbling but the words are indistinguishable. There's nothing he can do. He can't force her to leave.

He walks away, not looking back once just in case he changes his mind, and he slips out of the house before Carson or Lord Grantham can accost him. He keeps walking, practically running, (_he can hear his heart pounding in his ears with the exertion_) until he's far enough away from Downton Abbey that he can breathe again. It's raining ever so lightly when he gets on the bus but there's freshness about the air that makes him wish he could have dragged Sarah O'Brien out of that stifling room and got her well.

She is the last thing about the house that he allows himself to think about.

Sometime later he hears through the grapevine that Cora, Countess of Grantham has rallied and by Christmas she is quite a new woman, looking forward to the birth of her first grandchild. He hears nothing else but doesn't really expect to. _(There's a letter on his mantelpiece in Cora's own hand – he never, ever opens it.)_


End file.
